Confessions
by sodamnedannoying
Summary: Springles (Connie x Sasha). Everyone knows that Sasha and Connie are best friends, but are they more than that? A drunken confession leads them to question everything about their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

Hi all! I am a huge Attack on Titan fan and this is my first fanfic! This one is pure Springles.

THIS CHAPTER: Angst. I got the idea for the bathroom scene from the Steve/Nancy fight in Stranger Things.

 **Connie's POV**

It had been a rather uneventful year since humanity had annihilated the Titans. To celebrate the anniversary of their victory, Jean's mom gave him permission to throw a wild party for his military friends at her home. As they were all adults of legal drinking age, she figured it was the least they deserved it in reward for their service.

Normally the life of the party, Connie Springer didn't feel up to the task tonight. He almost declined Jean's invitation, but ultimately Sasha and her boyfriend of six months, Frank, had convinced him to attend.

Connie didn't like Frank. Not that there was anything particularly wrong with the dude – he was about 2 years older than the average 104th cadet and had served dutifully as a member of the military police before transferring to the survey corps in the final year of the war. He met Sasha on the battlefield, apparently falling head over heels for her when she rescued him from the clutches of an abnormal titan, saving his life. After the war, he asked her on a date (dinner and ice cream, of course) and the rest is history.

Although Connie was happy that his best friend had found love, he had to admit he was a bit salty that she had found it with Frank. Okay, maybe more than a bit salty. Very salty.

Unknown to Sasha, Connie had been working up the courage to confess his own feelings for his partner in crime long before Frank came along. He blamed himself for putting it off for so long, but it never seemed like the right time while they were both on active duty. Besides which, Sasha was his best friend in the entire survey corps, the only one he could felt comfortable both grieving and goofing off with. He couldn't risk losing the bond they had developed over unrequited feelings.

To make matters worse, Sasha was apparently the ONLY one unaware of his feelings toward her. Years before Frank had even made an appearance, the guys frequently teased Connie about his obvious crush on Potato Girl. When Frank and Sasha became an item, his friends expressed clear pity for Connie despite his futile attempts to act like he was over his crush. Even Frank himself expressed concern over the close nature of Sasha and Connie's friendship, discouraging her from staying the night at Connie's place despite the fact that she had always slept in the spare guest bedroom (admittedly to Connie's disappointment).

As he walked toward the kitchen to drown his sorry feelings for himself in another beer, Connie crashed back down to reality. The house was pulsating with the sound of the base. The loud music almost drowned out everything – almost.

As he walked past the bathroom, Connie could just barely make out a conversation between Frank and - a VERY drunk - Sasha.

"It's BULLSHIT. You're bullshit. Everything is bullshit."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Connie froze.

 **Sasha's POV**

Although her vision was fuzzy, Sasha could still make out that stupid, smug look on Frank's face as he brushed off her comment. She was so tired of this. Tired of his dismissiveness. Tired of him.

The excessive amount booze she had consumed that night emboldened her to let his snarky ass know how she really felt.

"You know what it means. You're always acting like everything is great, like it's normal. Like we're in love. Like we just party and have fun. Like half of our friends aren't - (hiccup) - DEAD."

Frank's stupid look vanished midway through her drunken rant. The room was spinning and the image of Frank's face zoomed in and out as his expression became visibly anguished.

 _Shit,_ Sasha thought.

For a few moments, Frank kept his composure as the two stood in silence. But Sasha could hear him choking back tears as he finally asked, "Like we're in love? …You don't love me?"

Sober Sasha would have instantly back-pedaled, but drunk Sasha couldn't be bothered to care about Frank's feelings right now. She was always walking on eggshells around him and the blissfully ignorant alternate universe that was the foundation of their relationship. She let him have it again.

Sasha's drunken frame slumped against the bathroom sink as she glared straight into Frank's eyes and confirmed his fear. "Of course not. It's all bullshit – (hiccup) BULL. SHIT."

The severity of what she had just done didn't dawn on Sasha until Frank gently took her face in his hands and lifted it up to look at him. She saw tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes as he held her gaze for a brief moment. Finally, his hands fell to his sides and he walked away from her without another word. She stared at the blurry outline of herself in the bathroom mirror as he slammed the door shut behind him.

 **Connie's POV**

Connie was still frozen in shock when Frank stormed out of the bathroom with tears streaming down his cheeks. Connie almost felt bad for him until he aggressively shouldered Connie out of his way and abruptly exited the party.

 _Oh shit…_ Connie thought.

He had never seen Frank and Sasha fight like this. This was bad.

Unsure of how to handle the situation, or what kind of state his best friend would be in when she finally emerged, he paced back and forth outside of the bathroom for several more minutes.

"There's another one upstairs if ya gotta piss." Suggested an unknown wasted party-goer.

"No thanks, I'm just waiting on a friend." Connie replied.

As the good Samaritan nodded and stumbled away, Connie was startled into action by muffled choking sounds coming from the bathroom.

He nearly ripped the door off of its' hinges as he rushed to his best friend's aid.

"SASH?!" Connie yelled his nickname for her as he barged in. The sight before his eyes was enough to give him a heart attack.

An already wasted Sasha had apparently stuffed a full bottle of wine into her bag and chugged it in the bathroom after her bout with Frank. The empty bottle could be seen rolling across the floor, leaving a few stray drops of red on the tile floor in its wake. The perpetrator herself had passed out against the bathtub with her head tilted back, and was in danger of choking on her own vomit.

Connie rushed over and leaned her limp body against the toilet as gently as he could. Almost immediately, Sasha began retching and he held the stray hair out of her face as her body rid itself of the toxins she had ingested.

 **Sasha's POV**

When Frank left her in the bathroom, Sasha had felt furious. Furious with him for holding her captive in his picturesque dream world for the past six months. Furious with her friends for passively accepting this sham of a relationship. Most of all, furious with herself for letting it go this far. And as sure as she was that it was over between her and Frank, she couldn't help but feel guilty for so cruelly breaking his heart.

As feelings of guilt and anger overwhelmed her, she began rooting desperately through her bag for the only solace within reach – a precious bottle of red wine. Sasha wasn't even much of a wine lover, but she screwed off the cap and began chugging the bottle like a life-saving elixir.

 _It's not Connie,_ she thought as the stinging drink slip down her throat. _But it's the next best thing when he isn't around._

Sasha would never admit it, but ever since her relationship with Frank grew serious she had developed a bit of a drinking problem. She didn't even like drunkenness very much – but it was the only thing that she felt she could do to cope with Connie's absence. For whatever reason, Frank wasn't a fan of the bald-headed wonder. Although Connie would always be her best friend, Frank would get jealous if she hung out with Connie more than him, slowly forcing the pair apart.

I sure wish Connie were here right now… Sasha thought as she felt her knees suddenly weaken and slumped to the floor. Upon landing with her back against the bathtub she lifted the bottle over her head again with wobbling hands. Sadly, only one drop remained to grace her lips.

 _Oh…. Shit…._ She thought as the room began spinning even more rapidly. Only now did she realize how drunk she was – really, REALLY drunk.

As everything faded to black, Sasha could only wonder one thing – where was Connie?

 **Connie's POV**

 _Shit._ Connie thought. _This is bad. Baaaaad._

Sasha wouldn't stop getting sick and was unresponsive to his questions. He monitored her closely and even wondered if he should take her to the hospital.

 _AUTHOR'S SIDE NOTE_ : _This is a fictional story. For the purposes of this fictional plot, they are not going to the hospital, but if this ever happens to you or a friend in real life, PLEASE GO TO THE HOSPITAL._

Finally, Sasha was able to go a while without throwing up. At this point, Connie decided it was time for her to get home and get some needed rest. However, there were some serious complications with this plan.

First of all, despite Connie's best efforts, Sasha's top was smeared with vomit. It was December and he didn't want to drag her outside, wet with her own sickness, in subzero temperatures. Not to mention the inevitable rumors that would start as a result of Connie dragging her out of the party covered in vomit.

Secondly, Sasha's house was quite far away from Jean's – presumably she had intended to stay the night at Frank's house, which was just around the corner, but with their falling out and the fact that it was already 2:30 AM that seemed unlikely.

Third, Sasha was clearly not in a state to be mobile on her own.

After a few minutes of concerned thinking, Connie came up with a decent plan.

He stood up and yanked his hoodie off of himself. He then proceeded to lift Sasha's arms and slid his hoodie over top of her vomit-adorned sweater. Sure, it was gross, but better than being wet and cold.

He then stood, lifting her arm over his shoulder with one hand and supporting her side with his other. He opened the bathroom door and snuck out the back with her as inconspicuously as he could.

Although Sasha's house was far away, Connie's was just about a 5 minute drive (fortunately, he had only had one drink early in the evening and was in good shape to drive). He helped the drunken girl stumble into his car and drove home.

When they arrived at his small home, he walked around to the passenger's side, lifted Sasha out of the car, and proceeded to carry her to his doorstep in his arms. Although Sasha was slightly taller than Connie, he was quite strong and was able to carry her miraculously thin frame rather easily.

Connie opened the door quietly, but was startled by the sight of his mother making herself a cup of late night tea in the kitchen. He and his mother lived alone together on the outskirts of town since Hange was able to transform her back into a human last year from her previous titan form.

Although she was used to her son partying until the early morning hours, Mrs. Springer gave him a shocked look when she noticed that he was carrying a completely passed out Sasha. Fortunately, Mrs. Springer and Sasha knew each other well and Connie only had to give his mother a look that conveyed that he would tell her about the situation later. She nodded knowingly and turned back to her tea as Connie carried Sasha up the stairs to the guest bedroom.

When they arrived Sasha began to stir and showed signs of waking. Connie laid her in a comfy armchair in the corner of the room as her pulled down the covers and pulled a trashcan next to the bed. He returned to Sasha and carefully removed her boots. He couldn't help but chuckle under his breath when he noticed that she was wearing a pair of incredibly adorable bunny rabbit socks.

He picked her up in his arms once more and held her there for a moment just staring at her as though she were a beautiful glass sculpture. He carried her to the bed and gently tucked her under the covers. Finally, he released her hair from its' signature ponytail because he knew she never slept with it in.

As he turned to leave, he felt her suddenly grab his arm.

"C-Connie…?" she whimpered softly.

Just hearing the sound of his name on her lips again was enough to make him smile. It was the first acknowledgement she had given him all night.

"Hey Sash…" he said as he gently brushed stray strands of hair out of her face. "How are you feeling?"

She didn't loosed her grip as she locked eyes with him and said in a breathy voice, "I want you…." Connie couldn't help but blush deep red as she trailed off. "I want you to stay… stay here… Please…"

Connie's cheeks were still on fire as a result of the sound of her voice when she said that she wanted him, although he knew what she really meant. She didn't want to be alone feeling this way. She wanted her best friend to stay by her side. He convinced himself it was nothing more than that.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise." He assured her as he pulled the armchair over to the side of the bed. "I'll stay right here."

Sasha smiled sincerely and closed her eyes.

"Thank you… thank you so much… for being my best friend." She whispered.

"Thanks for being mine…" Connie replied as he brushed his fingers across hers. He was glad that her eyes were closed, because if she could see the loving look on his face right now, his true feelings for her would be obvious even to her potato brain.

"Sometimes I wish that you were more…" she said, trailing off again.

Connie sat in stone-cold silence. This was definitely the alcohol talking. He didn't know how to respond. He knew she probably didn't really mean the things that she was saying right now. He should probably stop her before she starts a conversation that he knows she shouldn't be having under the influence. But he REALLY wants to hear the rest of what she has to say.

 **Sasha's POV**

As she felt Connie lightly tracing his fingers across the back of her hand, drunk Sasha came to a realization that sober Sasha had never been willing to confront. The way she felt about Connie was unlike she had ever felt about anyone else. Sure, he was her best friend. But maybe he was also more.

"Sometimes I wish that you were more…" she began, even in her drunken state hesitating as to whether she should finish the thought.

Connie was silent. She decided to take advantage of the liquid courage that she still felt pulsing through her veins.

"Why did you let me date Frank?" she asked bluntly.

"What do you mean?" Connie replied.

Exasperated, Sasha sighed. "You KNOW what I mean. Why didn't you tell me Frank isn't the right guy for me?"

Connie wouldn't look into her eyes, which was frustrating to Sasha.

"How was I supposed to know? I thought you loved him."

Sasha gave an even more exaggerated sigh and grabbed onto Connie's shirt collar, perhaps more aggressively than she realized, forcing him to look into her eyes.

"You did know. You know who's the right guy but you never said anything. Some -(hiccup) - friend you are!"

Now Connie was starting to get frustrated too. His brows furrowed as he looked her in the eye and asked, "Who's the right guy, then?"

Sasha stared at him in silent annoyance. She couldn't believe he was acting so smug. She could tell he felt it too. He had to have noticed the tension building between the two of them over all of these years. Their faces were slowly getting closer together. She can't be the only one who felt it… right?

Just as she was about to go in for the kiss, Connie sighed and turned his head away from her abruptly.

He said curtly, "Forget it. You're drunk. You should rest now."

She couldn't help but wonder if this is how Frank must have felt as she felt her heart shatter to pieces and swallowed the lump in throat that was threatening to burst. She rolled over and turned her back to her best friend as a single tear drifted down her cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2! This chapter contains less angst, more fluff.

 **Connie's POV**

It took everything Connie had not to kiss her.

She was wasted. He didn't want their first kiss to be like this. He wanted their first kiss to be happy, to be special. He wanted for her to be completely lucid when he confessed his feelings for her. He wanted to know that she meant it.

 _She doesn't mean any of it._ Said the voice in Connie's head. _She didn't mean it when she said she wanted to be more than friends. She didn't mean it when she told Frank she didn't love him. She didn't mean any of it, and you're going to be heartbroken when she wakes up sober tomorrow and goes running back to him._

He was so busy convincing himself that she would never feel the same way about him, he didn't even notice that she was crying as she rolled over to face away from him.

He watched her breathing slow and become more rhythmic as she fell into a deep sleep. Despite her finally being able to form sentences, Connie was still too worried to leave his drunk best friend alone. Instead, he sat up in the armchair and watched her rest, making sure she remained on her side as she slept so that she couldn't choke if she got sick in her sleep. Every 30 minutes or so, he walked over and held her wrist in his hand, checking her pulse. At some point in the night he went downstairs and got her a glass of ice water in case she woke up thirsty or hung-over and set it down quietly on her bedside table.

Around 5 am, she startled awake and sat up quickly. Connie took one look at her pale face and could tell that she was going to be sick. He quickly grabbed that trashcan and rushed to her side. Once again, he held he hair back as she retched.

When she was done, she pulled back from the trashcan and smiled softly as he patted down her mouth with a tissue and lifted a glass of ice water to her lips.

She drifted back into a restful sleep and when Connie was satisfied with her state, her quietly left the room and closed the door to the guest bedroom gently behind him.

He let his hand rest on the doorknob for another minute or so before finally whispering under his breath, "I love you…"

And with that he retreated to his own room for a couple of hours rest.

 **Sasha's POV**

 _Connie Springer is a saint._

That's the first thing that Sasha thought as she sat up in her bed that morning.

Surprisingly, she didn't feel that hung-over. She slowly rose from the bed and saw that she was wearing Connie's sweatshirt in the mirror. As she lifted it off her head, she noticed the disgusting layer of crusty vomit on her original sweater.

 _Oh boy…_ Sasha thought. _What did I do last night?_

She vaguely remembered aspects of the night, but was short on some important details. She remembered getting into an argument with Frank in the bathroom. She did not remember what the argument was about or what she had said, but she was pretty sure that their relationship was over.

She also remembered being magically teleported from the party bathroom to the guest bedroom at Connie's house. Okay, she knew she wasn't teleported but the details of how she got there were a blur.

Her heart sank as she remembered her argument with Connie.

 _Fuck._ She thought. _What was that even about?!_

Her memory was sparse to say the least. She knew that she would need to talk to Connie to figure out what went down, and she dreaded finding out what she may have said to him. Although she had no idea what words had or had not come out of her mouth, she was vividly aware that she had come to the realization last night that her feelings from Connie went beyond friendship – and she remembered a distinct feeling of heart-wrenching rejection shortly after this epiphany.

 _What have I gotten myself into this time…_ she sighed and turned on the shower. She pulled some of her clothes out of the drawer (left at Connie's from the many nights she stayed over before dating Frank) and entered the hot shower, bracing herself for the day ahead.

 **Connie's POV**

 _Shit,_ he thought as he heard the shower in the guest room turn on. _She's up._

As far as Connie could see, there were only 3 options as to Sasha's memory of last night.

1) She remembers nothing and he has to tell her that she told Frank she didn't love him. On the bright side, he doesn't have to bring up what she said about her relationship with himself and their friendship can still be salvaged as they go on like nothing happened.

2) She remembers some things, but not all, and he has to fill in the gaps for her – however ugly they may be. In this scenario, he may be able to omit some potentially friendship-ending information.

3) She remembers everything and realizes that he has feelings for her and their friendship is ruined.

Connie sighed as he contemplated the possibilities. None were good options.

Suddenly he heard knocking on the door.

"Connie?" he heard Sasha call out for him sheepishly.

"Coming!" he shouts as he threw on some clothes and prepared to face her.

He finally opened the door and was embarrassed by the face that he knows he was making when he caught sight of her. She's dressed in one of the cute nightgowns she used to wear for their sleepovers back in the day. Her wet hair falls loosely past her shoulders and her cheeks are rosy, presumably from the hot shower she just took. She looks gorgeous.

"Um…" She starts shyly, looking down and off to the side. "Do you think we could… talk? About last night? Please?"

He loved how she always added "please" to her simple requests.

 _STOP IT._ Connie yelled at himself internally. _She is about to get back together with Frank. Get over it._

"Yeah, of course. Come on in." He closed the door behind her and gesturing to his bed. "Are you feeling alright today?"

Sasha sighed as she sat down. "Yeah… a lot better than last night judging by the puke I can see that I got all over the inside of your hoodie."

Connie giggled and replied genuinely, "Don't worry about it."

"I'll get you a new one." She assured him.

"Not necessary – I've got plenty of ratty hoodies for you to puke on in the future." He replied with a cheeky grin.

 _He really is a saint._ Sasha thought to herself.

"Uh, I was hoping you could fill in some of the gaps for me about last night. I feel like there are some important details that I might be forgetting." She stated.

 _Ah,_ Connie thought. _It's option 2._

"Sure." Connie obliged. "Just tell me what you know and I'll try to remember the rest."

"Okay… First thing I remember is fighting with Frank in the bathroom."

"Yeah… obviously I wasn't there for that but I know what was said." Connie didn't know how to tell her that he was eavesdropping on a private conversation between her and Frank without sounding like a creep.

"Did I break up with him?" Sasha asked

Connie couldn't help but notice something off in her voice. Did she sound… relieved?

"Uh… not exactly." Connie muttered.

"Oh." Sasha replied curtly.

 _She seems disappointed. Interesting_. Connie thought.

"Are you… sad?" he questioned cautiously, looking over to her out of the corner of his eye.

"I guess so." Sasha sighed. "I felt so sure that I had ended things with him last night which felt… good."

It took everything Connie had not to break out in a happy dance.

"Well… you did tell him that you weren't in love with him." Connie told her reluctantly. As much as he disliked Frank, he didn't want to tell Sasha that the relationship was over.

"I see..." Sasha sighed again. "Well it had to happen eventually. I'm glad that it's finally over."

Connie was quiet for a moment before he found the courage to ask, "So you… don't love him?"

Sasha looked up at him with a dumbfounded expression and then broke out in a laugh.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "Did you think that I did?"

Connie was having a dance party in his head. _Sasha doesn't love Frank! Sasha doesn't love Frank! Yes yes yes yes yes!_

He chucked lightly before answering, "Honestly, I was hoping you didn't."

The tension was palpable as she fell silent again.

"Why is that?" she finally asked.

"I, uh, just didn't like him." Connie lied, looking down at his feet. "He seemed kind of controlling and stuff. That's all."

 **Sasha's POV**

Sasha was surprised by Connie's answer.

"If you thought he was controlling… why didn't you tell me?" She asked, genuinely curious. "You're my best friend."

Connie blushed and refused to meet her gaze. "I don't wanna tell you how to live your life, ya know?"

"Oh…" Sasha understood, but she was a bit disappointed with the response. "Well, tell me next time, okay?"

"Sure thing." Connie assured.

"The other thing I remember is being alone in the bathroom after Frank left and then suddenly waking up here. How did that happen?" she asked.

"Well…" Connie had to think of a way to spin this in a non-creepy light. "I heard someone getting sick in the bathroom when I was walking past so I rushed in and found you. You were really wasted, Sash. I was pretty worried about you."

"Sorry…" Sasha said, genuinely regretting her irresponsible actions. She hadn't even thought of the position she was putting her friends in by getting black out drunk like that.

"Don't be sorry!" Connie quickly rebutted. "I'm just glad you're alright. I know you live pretty far from Jean's house and Frank had already left so I drove you to my place and put you up in the guest room. It was no problem."

 _Somehow I doubt that_ , Sasha thought to herself, _judging by the fact that you gave me your sweatshirt, took my shoes off, took my hair down, tucked me in, gave me ice water… DAMMIT HE'S A FUCKING SAINT._

"Connie, I know you really took good care of me last night." She told him. "Thank you so much. I'm so lucky to have a friend like you."

She couldn't help but notice the shadow of disappoint fall across his face as she said it.

He quickly concealed his disappointment with a classic Connie grin. "No worries!"

"One more thing…" Sasha inquired. "Last night… I also remember getting into an argument… with you…"

She could see Connie visibly swallow a lump in his throat. Maybe she shouldn't have brought it up. But she had to know what she had said… and how he responded to it.

"Yeah… kinda." He confirmed.

After realizing that he wasn't going to tell her of his own accord, she asked, "What was it about?"

Connie was staring at his feet as he answered sheepishly. "You were disappointed in me for letting you date Frank."

Sasha let out a brief chuckle and became somber again. "Of course that's not your responsibility. I'm sorry, Connie. I don't blame you for it at all."

Connie hesitated before replying, "Well, I'm sorry anyway."

"Don't be." She asserted.

Connie was still looking down at his feet, which were swinging nervously over the side of his bed.

 _There's something he's not telling me…_ Sasha thought.

"Is that all?" she prodded.

"Well…" he hesitated as he trailed off.

Now Sasha was getting frustrated.

"Just tell me!" she demanded.

"Uh… you were mad that I called you Potato Girl." Connie replied curtly.

 _He's lying._ Sasha thought. _I KNOW that he's lying because I love when he calls me that. I wouldn't be mad about that no matter how drunk I was. But why would he lie?_

Unsure if she should call out his lie, Sasha was quiet for a moment.

"Sorry." Connie added.

Sasha sighed, deciding to let it go for now. "No more sorries from you. You should be hearing that from me. But you know I'm not good at verbal apologies so let's go downstairs so that I can make it up to you the best way I know how."

Connie couldn't help busting a grin at her suggestion. He knew Sasha all too well.

"Ooh, what's on the menu this morning?" he teased.

"Whatever you want," Sasha replied as she walked toward the door. "Slash whatever's in your fridge!"

It felt just like the good old days as the dynamic duo went down the stairs laughing together.

To be continued...


End file.
